


Weep

by draculard



Series: Pellaeon/Thrawn 30 Day Ficlets [26]
Category: Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Alcohol, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Bilbringi AU, Thrawn Lives AU, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26641243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Unwisely, Thrawn and Gilad spend the night drinking.
Relationships: Gilad Pellaeon/Thrawn | Mitth’raw’nuruodo
Series: Pellaeon/Thrawn 30 Day Ficlets [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904581
Kudos: 29





	Weep

Pellaeon rolled over in bed, praying to himself that it wasn’t anywhere close to dawn on the ship’s clock. His whole body sagged with relief when he saw the time — only a little past two a.m. 

He stood creakily and slowly, pausing to get his balance before he tried to walk. There was an empty bottle somewhere on the floor, unless Thrawn had picked it up while Pellaeon was sleeping, and he took careful, sweeping steps toward the refresher to avoid tripping over it on his way.

The light was on, shining beneath the fresher door. Pellaeon fumbled for the release for a moment, still a bit more drunk than he’d like to admit, and frowned when the door stayed shut. Locked. Thrawn _never_ locked the door; he had no sense of shyness, and often seemed offended when he tried to use the toilet while Pellaeon was showering and found the door locked against him. Was this some sort of petty revenge? If so, it was _infuriatingly_ well-timed.

He knocked three times, loudly, and called, “Thrawn?” Wincing at the scratchiness of his own voice, he waited a second and then rested his forehead against the door. “I need to piss. “

There was a beat of silence and then, inside the fresher, the light switched off. Pellaeon blinked, but he’d scarcely had time to process the change before the door opened and Thrawn brushed past him, putting his hands on Pellaeon’s shoulders and gently maneuvering him out of the way without a word of explanation or greeting.

Pellaeon shook his head and took Thrawn’s place in the fresher, flipping the light back on. It was only once he’d stationed himself before the toilet that he realized he hadn’t heard it flush — nor had he heard the sink running. When he finished, he leaned over to look in the shower and found the tub completely dry. 

So what had Thrawn been doing in here? he wondered, now feeling a little more sober. Surely he hadn’t been masturbating; knowing Thrawn, he’d be more likely to just shake Pellaeon awake than bother taking care of himself. Or he’d do it in bed, just to enjoy the grimace on Pellaeon’s face when he woke up and realized what was going on.

He turned the light off on his way out and paused in the entrance to their bedroom, giving himself a moment to re-adjust to the dark. What reason was there to sit alone in a fresher at 2 a.m. with the lights on? If Thrawn hadn’t been able to sleep — or if he’d needed some space to think — he could have gone into his office instead. 

Across the room, he could see Thrawn curled up in bed, his back to the fresher. He looked relaxed, like he’d already fallen asleep, but Pellaeon approached the bed cautiously and sat on the edge of it rather than taking his spot on the far side. He let his leg brush against Thrawn’s back before he touched him, lightly resting his hand on Thrawn’s upper arm.

There was a quiet hitch in Thrawn’s breath. After a moment, at Pellaeon’s silent urging, he rolled over onto his back and covered his face with his hands.

“Are you…?” Pellaeon started. He ran his thumb over the heel of Thrawn’s hand, trying to coax him into letting Pellaeon see. Thrawn acquiesced after only a moment of hesitation, moving his hands up above his head and burying them beneath his pillow. He looked at Pellaeon with a sort of quiet defiance, water leaking from the corners of his eyes.

Pellaeon swallowed his unfinished question, deciding it was redundant. He placed his palm on Thrawn’s forehead and then pushed upward, brushing the hair back from Thrawn’s eyes. 

“I didn’t know your species could weep,” he said awkwardly, unsure what else to say. 

Thrawn looked away with a quiet snort. “I’m not weeping,” he said derisively. Pellaeon raised an eyebrow at him, silently studying the tear tracks on Thrawn’s face. “It’s a reaction to the alcohol,” Thrawn said.

Pellaoen nodded and ran his fingers through Thrawn’s hair. “Many people react to alcohol by weeping,” he said soothingly. This time, Thrawn actually grabbed his wrist, holding Pellaeon’s hand tightly to get him to stop.

“I mean it,” he said, and sure enough, his voice was steady and there was a wry smile on his face. “I’m not in any distress; I had a negative reaction to the alcohol, I threw up, and it made my eyes water. That’s all.”

“ _Oh_.” Feeling amazed — and somewhat embarrassed by his own motherly instincts — Pellaeon shifted on the edge of the bed and looked at Thrawn’s face a little more closely. “Is that common? I don’t cry when I throw up.”

“It’s…” Thrawn shook his head, gesturing to his still-leaking eyes. “It’s a mixture of light sensitivity and chemical imbalance. A reaction to the alcohol, like I said.” Then, wrinkling his nose, “Don’t worry, if I had a mental breakdown, I would let you know.”

Pellaeon smiled a little, keeping his hand in Thrawn’s hair. “Why were you hiding in the fresher, then?” he asked.

“I wasn’t _hiding_ ,” said Thrawn. “I just thought you’d rather I didn’t use your favorite quilt to wipe my eyes. But if I was incorrect…”

He reached for the quilt and started to pull it up past his chest. Pellaeon lurched forward to stop him.

“No, no, you were right,” he said hastily, wrenching the quilt away. “Don’t do that.”

Thrawn wiped his eyes on the back of his hand instead, muffling a laugh. He leaned closer to Pellaeon, urging him down on the mattress until they were lying side by side — rather uncomfortable, really, since this was Thrawn’s side of the bed and he showed no indication of moving over. 

“I’m touched that you would try to comfort me,” said Thrawn, a little wryly. 

“ _Try_ ,” Pellaeon repeated with a scoff, wiggling around to get comfortable on the edge of the bed.

“For future reference,” Thrawn said, “I prefer to be left alone when I’m crying.” He paused, watching Pellaeon with something like affection. “Do humans weep, then?” he asked.

Pellaeon froze, raising an eyebrow. “No, in fact,” he said, just to see what Thrawn would say. “We don’t have tear ducts. When we’re upset, we just make a—” He gestured to his throat. “—dry, hacking sound, rather like a cough.”

Thrawn’s eyes followed Pellaeon’s hand before moving back up to his face. There was a soft smile touching his lips.

“That’s not true,” he said.

“Well, why’d you ask if you already know?” asked Pellaeon.

“You wept when I was in the hospital,” Thrawn said quietly, still studying Pellaeon with that gentle smile. Pellaeon huffed and didn’t feel at all apologetic when his alcohol-laced breath hit Thrawn in the face, making him cringe away.

“You don’t have to be so smug about it,” Pellaeon said as Thrawn turned away, covering his nose. “You’d just been stabbed for God’s sake. You could have died.”

Thrawn glowered at him and waved this away. “You could have cleaned your teeth while you were in there,” he complained.

“I was too worried about you to waste time,” said Pellaeon innocently. He held his arms out to Thrawn. “Come here. Give me a kiss.”

Thrawn shoved him off the bed.


End file.
